Heartbeat
by AndThenIDied
Summary: Life isn't very enjoyable when you're a cursed prince with no heart. However, every curse has its cure. Birthday fic for Lindsay. Creek.


***Disclaimer: I do not own any rights to South Park.**

* * *

**Heartbeat**

_**The Beginning **_

Our story takes place in the kingdom of Tuckerton, a fairly small walled off kingdom surrounded by mountainous countryside. The site beyond Tuckerton's large, silver stonewalls was something to behold. However, the people incased within them were just as content with never leaving the comfort of their tiny kingdom. You see, what Tuckerton lacked in size, it made up for in wealth. The people were notorious hard workers, maintaining a self-sufficient society.

Tuckerton was quite a marvel indeed.

An outsider walking in on the small kingdom today, though, would be quite confused as to what was going on.

No one was working.

All the shops were closed, and families were marching merrily in the streets, throwing flowers and ribbons in the air, decorating the normally bland cobblestone roads. Instruments filled the air with joyful music, and everyone seemed to be marching in the same direction: towards the large castle that stood on a steep hill, overlooking its population.

The kingdom was celebrating the birth of its new prince, Craig Tucker.

However, the celebrating townspeople had no idea that what was happening behind the thick walls of Tuckerton's castle was nothing to cheer about.

There was a great evil that lurked within the palace's walls.

A once beloved healer stood over the prince's cradle, stroking his soft blonde hair with long pointed fingers. The king and queen sat powerless in their thrones, and knights stood by with swords drawn. No one dared to move, for if they did, the baby's life would swiftly end.

This healer—her name is really none of importance—used to serve the royal family. Her magic could cure anything, putting her at a highly envied position of power. However, the more popular she became, the hungrier she grew to rule. The healer betrayed the kingdom by trying to poison the queen, but was unsuccessful. She had been banished and not heard from since…at least, not until now.

"Relax." The evil woman soothed, continuing to stroke the baby's blond locks. "I'm not going to kill him." She said, her lips twisting up in a devious smile.

"Get away from my baby." The queen spat, standing up in desperation. She froze though, when she saw the ex-healer pick Craig up and hold him in her arms. "Don't hurt him."

"It's alright." The woman murmured, her slanted eyes never leaving the child in her arms. She placed a slender hand on his tiny chest. "Curses don't hurt…physically anyways."

She began chanting unintelligible words under her breath.

Knights rushed forwards, swinging their swords back in preparation to slice the witch in half.

But they froze in horror when they noticed her dragging a glowing entity from his chest. It was like a small bright sun. What was happening?

The prince's hair turned a midnight inky black, and the queen's mouth opened in a wordless scream.

"Your son has no heart." The witch announced, holding up the now black haired prince for everyone to see. "He will never know love. He will never know compassion. He will be a cold ruler, with no understanding for others." Her thin mouth stretched into a wicked smile. She placed the child back into his cradle, admiring her work.

"Kill her!" the king roared, and the knights wasted no time.

The witch was dead before she could say another word. However it was too late. Her work was done.

Beyond the castle, the people continued to celebrate…unaware that their new prince was cursed.

Heartless.

* * *

_**The Present: 18 years later**_

I'm Craig Tucker, and I don't have a heart. Not that I mind, though, I mean…why would I? I'm kind of lacking in the feelings department. Which is why this "curse" everyone cries about doesn't really seem like much of a curse to me at all. Sure…having a future king that doesn't have the ability to sympathize with people may be a bit of a problem, but it's not like this curse business is public news. No, only a few people close to the royal family hold this knowledge. I imagine if it got out people wouldn't be too happy.

Again, not that I really care.

I'd say the biggest inconvenience of the whole thing is the physical feeling that something is _missing. _Like, there's a vacant gaping hole where my heart should be. It's constantly nagging, making my chest ache, _always _reminding me that something isn't quite right. This hole, this fucking hole, is the one and only reason I want a heart, simply because the ache is so God damn _obnoxious. _After living eighteen years with it, I've learned to just ignore it until it becomes a background presence—but it's still there, and still reminding me that it wants that one special puzzle piece to fill it back up.

Other than that, though, I don't see why I'd need one.

In fact, hearts seem like a _disadvantage. _When is love and empathy really necessary? In ruling a kingdom? No, the people can fear their king. Fighting a war? Definitely not, unless they want to lose. Having Children? Maybe, but when has a king ever had to actually raise his own kids? That's what servants were for.

Not that I plan on creating heirs to the throne. I've got a little sister, after all, so I'll let her carry that burden.

My life, besides the whole heartless thing, is pretty good. It's the same day after day, and I love it—well, if I could. Routine is what I live for. Wake up, eat breakfast, horseback ride, combat training, the occasional boring meeting with my father, socializing with commoners (not my favorite activity, but it has to be done), dinner, and then—as a reward for myself—I spend my free time at this bakery not too far from the castle. I'm convinced it's the best bakery in Tuckerton. I mean, why else would I go there?

In fact, that's where I'm heading right now. Despite the fact that the tiny stone shop is only a few minutes from the palace's gates, I take a carriage to avoid the countless people crowding the streets. The royal carriage always causes a commotion whenever it's being used. Townspeople pause in their meaningless activities to bustle out of the way and wave mindlessly like some sort of god was riding inside the heavily decorated box with wheels. I've always been confused as to why their moods would shift so quickly just from seeing the thing. Like, I don't think I'd give a shit either way.

Then again, I'm a special case.

The carriage lurches to halt, and I wait patiently as the knights and guards sitting up front clear the short distance from the carriage to the bakery of annoying commoners. I can see them from the small windows that are planted on either side of the wagon's cloth walls. People are clogging the cobble stone streets, waving and even reaching out to the elaborate vehicle in front of them. I can't help but frown in response. They all just seem so _dirty. _

The cart's door swings open slowly, sending a ray of sunlight into the dull inside. From where I'm sitting, I can see guards holding people back, creating a nice clean pathway to the small bakery. The bakery has probably been cleared out by now…well, it better be. I don't like waiting in lines for food. I also don't like speaking to people when I have food. It's usually empty except for the eccentric baker by the time I arrive.

And the baker really is something. I can barely stand him, but he makes good scones, which is more than I can say about the mindless cattle waving lovingly in my direction.

I step out of the carriage slowly, immediately hearing my name being called by the masses. I know what they want. They want me to wave, to smile, to somehow acknowledge their existence.

But I don't.

I walk with a straight face to the small wooden door, without so much as glancing at the people around me. I already did my charity work today, selfish bastards.

A small bell above the door indicates that I have arrived. I close my eyes and inhale deeply, a feeling of almost-contentment overtaking me as the scent of fresh bread floods through my nostrils. The annoying screams fade to the background as the door closes behind me.

If I had a heart, I'd love this place. It's small—the definition of quaint—but clean and well kept. Most of the shop is wood—the counters, tables, and chairs—save for the walls and ceiling, which are silver stone.

"Good evening, Prince Tucker." The owner, Richard Tweak, greets me. His voice is soft and smooth. I think he should announce events or something with a voice like his. It really is special. Something one could fall asleep to. He's kind of a weird guy, though, a bit too obsessed with his work. But, I guess that's what makes it so good. I don't care either way of course. He just gets annoying when he gets on the subject of food. I usually keep the conversation to a minimum.

"Good evening." I say in return, opening my eyes and taking casual steps toward the lanky man behind the counter. He looks exactly the way he sounds, smooth and mellow…if that makes sense.

However a few steps into my familiar routine, I can already tell something is off. Something is, _different. _

I don't like different.

I stop in my tracks, eyes flashing to the small figure that's sitting in the corner of the bakery. What the hell is this? The guards know I don't want customers in here when I arrive, whether they're out of the way or not.

I take my eyes off the annoying disturbance and bring my attention to the baker, taking long strides to the front of the counter. I tower over him, trying my best—no, not trying…_succeeding—_in looking as intimidating as possible. However, the man is pretty dense and doesn't really respond the way I want him to. He just smiles up at me humbly, like he sees nothing wrong.

"Why didn't you clear everyone out of here?" I ask bluntly, however it sounds more like a statement. From the corner of my eye I see the figure flinch at my harsh words.

Good.

"But I did." Richard Tweak assures silkily, motioning to his mostly empty bakery.

I don't appreciate jokes, if that's what he's going for. I let him know that by seizing his shoulders from in front of the counter and turning him around, forcing him to face the commoner sitting in the corner.

"Then who's that?" I inquire flatly.

The baker is silent for a moment before laughing airily, turning around and brushing my hands off his shoulders. The man's really fucking lucky he can bake well, because otherwise I'd consider having him arrested.

"Oh, he's my son." Mr. Tweak says, offering me another stupid smile. The answer isn't one I expect. I had no idea Richard had a son. "He wanted to come down to the bakery, isn't that right Tweek?"

I raise my eyebrow at that, a little confused as to why a father would refer to his son by his last name. But at the sound of a small squeak, I turn my head to examine the boy that obstructed my usual routine.

The only way I can describe the baker's son is…bizarre. Seriously, he doesn't look normal. The first thing that catches my attention is the bright, almost white, blond hair that piles on top of his head. It's almost like wheat—no, hay. Like, someone just dropped a mound of hay onto his head and it stuck up in every direction possible and just kind of stayed there. He's incredibly pale; skin an ivory white that even made me jealous. He certainly doesn't look like the kind of upper class boy that never sees sunlight, based off his baggy brown clothes that barely cling to his thin frame. Speaking of which, his entire tiny body seems to be unable to sit still. He keeps twitching, or shivering, or groping at nothing.

Bizarre.

But the strangest thing about him is his eyes. They are unlike any eyes I have ever seen in my life. His lashes are pale and long, just as pale as his messy hair. They're gigantic, larger than the eyes of a frightened horse, yet they somehow fit well on his face despite everything else looking considerably smaller. And his pupils, his pupils are such a light shade of blue that if I don't look hard enough it almost appears as though nothing is there. They're milky like the rest of his eye. It's almost haunting.

I can tell he isn't looking at me. In fact, he isn't really looking at anything. I'm not sure how to react to his off-putting appearance.

"What's wrong with him?' Is all I can think to ask. I see the boy flinch again at my cruel tone, but I'm not addressing him, so I don't care. I just keep talking as if he's not in the room. "Has he been touched by a ghost or something?"

Richard Tweak looks alarmed by my accusation. "No, no!" He says quickly. "His vision was taken from him at a very young age due to an accident," he informs me, "he's blind."

_Vision was _taken _from him at a very young age. _

The pain in my chest suddenly flares up, causing me to wince uncomfortably. Instinctively, I clutch the area where I'm assuming my heart _should _be. Cloth bunches up under my hand, and the hollow feeling is almost unbearable. I don't understand why it's suddenly acting up.

"Are you alright, prince?" Mr. Tweak asks curiously. His son's head is tilted in our direction, listening intently. I frown at him, though he can't see it.

"Yes, just get me what I usually get." I mumble shortly, glaring at nothing in particular.  
_Vision was taken away from him._

_ I know what it's like to have something taken away from you. _

Without really knowing why, I find myself walking in the Tweak boy's direction, taking a lazy seat across from him on a rickety old bench. I stare at him for a while, still loosely holding a hand to my chest. The ache has calmed down again, back to being a background annoyance. I briefly wonder what the hell caused it to act up like that.

The boy across from me grows more and more anxious, fidgeting uneasily in his seat. He knows I'm here, yet I find it increasingly interesting that he can't see me. I wave a hand in front of his face and get no reaction.

"Uh, father is that—"

"No." I cut him off bluntly, scaring the shit out of him. A shiver wracks through his body so hard he nearly falls out of his seat. His voice is almost the complete opposite of his father's. It's quiet, like his, yet it sounds raspy—gravely—uneven. Like he spends too much time screaming, so when he speaks normally, people only hear the faint remains of his voice.

"P-P-Prince." He stutters, lowering his head in some kind of lazy bow, nearly smashing it against the wooden table. "I'm sorry I—"

"Eh." I wave off, interrupting him for a second time. I continue to stare at him, finding his unique appearance entertaining. His face is very fascinating up close. His nose is small and thin, yet very long, swooping down and then hooking up like a fish hook. It gives him a very fox-like appearance. His mouth is also small, lips just a tad darker than his milky skin. It's not surprising Richard never takes this kid to the shop. He looks cursed.

But we all know who the real cursed one here is.

"What's your name?" I cross my arms over my chest, continuing to observe the strange boy.

"Tweek." He answers hesitantly. God, what is it with this family?

"No, your first name." I clarify slowly, as if I'm speaking to a three year old. I can tell the blond doesn't appreciate it based off of how he scrunches his nose.

"That _is _m-my first name." He insists. "My name is Tweek Tweak." He rubs at his hair nervously with one arm, hauntingly staring into space.

"The hell kind of name is Tweek Tweak?" I mumble, causing said boy to wince at my callous comment.

We don't speak again after that, but damn do I find this kid entertaining. I don't even know why. People usual bore me just by existing. But Tweek, he's different.

Richard emerges with my blueberry scone, and I get up to take my prize and leave. As I'm exiting the shop, I glance back at Tweek still sitting in the corner.

"Richard." I address the baker loudly, causing the blond to start.

"Yes, prince?"  
"Bring Tweek Tweak back here, he amuses me." I order, receiving a mixed reaction from the two people inside the bakery. Mr. Tweak simply smiles and nods excitedly, while his son nearly falls out of his seat again.

I ignore the screaming commoners as I climb back into my carriage. It lurches forward and begins to carry me back to the castle. I wince, holding my chest.

It hurts again.

* * *

I wake up the next morning completely exhausted. I probably only slept a collective three hours last night. My chest has been killing me lately. I want to rip it open with my bare hands and stuff it full of feathers just so it will feel like it has _something _inside of it. I don't understand why this is happening. It hasn't been this bad in years, so why start up now?

I stare blankly at the ceiling high above my bed, waiting patiently for the servants to bust into my quarters and get me ready for the day. My chest still throbs painfully, and I should probably tell someone about it…but that would just result in another visit from some shit stuffed priest that will do nothing but shout God's name a couple of times.

I eventually decide to just keep it to myself and go through the entire day as planned. What's the saying? Grin and bare it? After all, what good is a prince that can't act?

By the time the day is over I want nothing more than to pass out and never wake up again. I debate whether or not I should take a trip to the bakery. It's probably better to sleep off whatever is happening to me…but a scone sounds really good right about now. Plus, the baker's strange son might take my mind off the pain. I call for the carriage and am on my way to Richard Tweak's in less than ten minutes.

"The usual." I order as I barge into the small shop, hearing a screech from somewhere within the tiny space.

"Of course, my prince!" Mr. Tweak responds immediately, disappearing.

My gaze instantly lands on Tweek, who is once again sitting in the corner, but this time facing the entrance. He has a lump of floured dough in front of him that he keeps kneading anxiously with his hands. I make my way toward him and sit down.

Tweek sits stiffly and uneasily, waiting—I'm guessing—on me to start the conversation. But I'm too caught up in his haunting eyes. They stare forward blankly, and I know he can't _really _see me…yet I feel like he's seeing me clearer than anyone ever has.

I only realize how ridiculous that sounds after I think it, so I quickly dispel the idea.

"What's it like?" I blurt, drumming my long fingers against the tabletop in boredom. Tweek catches the action, angling his head downward slightly, listening to the obnoxious sound.

"What is what like?" He asks, his voice just as quiet and raspy as before.

"Being blind." I reply, my fingers halting in their rhythmic drumming. Tweek looks skeptical and guarded, unwilling to answer my question. I don't know why, but I wait patiently for him to speak. Something I'm not really fond of doing.

This kid seems to be the exception though.

"Why do you want to know?" He eventually whispers.

I hesitate before I answer him. Why _do _I want to know? I've never shown interest in anybody my entire life, not even my own damn family. So, why do I suddenly want to know more about the baker's odd blind son?

It must be because we share something in common. I mean, sure he's not cursed, but he doesn't have something that most people do. Yeah, I'm positive that's it.

However, it's not like I can really tell him that…the fact that I don't have a heart isn't exactly something I need getting around the kingdom.

"Because I'm curious." I finally say, gaze traveling down to Tweek's small hands, where he continues to knead the floury dough anxiously. I bet he likes how it feels. Blind people are extra sensitive to that kind of stuff, right?

The blond in front of me eventually shrugs uneasily. "P-please forgive me prince, but—but it's not really something I know how to explain." He mutters. "I don't think you would be able to understand."

"Why's that?"

"Um, well," Tweek scrunched up his nose in thought—he looked like a concentrated kitten or something, "if you think of people like…like puzzles, I'd be incomplete." He says, staring blankly forward. Once again I feel like those eyes are pealing away layers of my skin. "A piece would be missing. B-But you—you wouldn't have any pieces missing. So, it'd be hard for you to understand what not having that piece is like. A-A piece that you _should _have, because—ngh—everyone else has it. A piece that-that you wake up every morning expecting to be there, because it would feel so right…but then you actually wake up and it's still gone, and you can feel that it's gone constantly…"

I blink a few times; unsure of how to react to the information I was just told. What this boy just described, is exactly how I feel. A puzzle missing a piece seems kind of lame but…it's true. What's the point of looking at a beautiful picture if an important part of it is blotched out, or simply not there? Who spends their time looking at the rest of the stunning scenery instead of closely examining that blacked out spot? That empty spot, which is the only thing you can focus on.

"Agh!" Tweek suddenly shrieks, ripping me out of my thoughts. His hands fly from the sticky dough and grope clumsily at his straw-like hair. "I didn't mean to ramble like that!" He panics. "Jesus Christ, please forgive me, prince!"

"Uh…" I rub at the back of my neck, a strange heavy sensation coming over me, causing me to feel…uncomfortable? "No. It's fine."

Richard emerges from nowhere at the side of the table, spooking both Tweek and me. He cheerfully hands me my scone (I don't know why the hell it takes him so long to give it to me), and I get up to take my leave.

I can't stop thinking about what Tweek had said back at the bakery. It's stuck in my mind, even as I get into my bed that night to sleep. Only before I drift off to unconsciousness, do I realize something.

My chest doesn't hurt anymore.

* * *

The next few days were…strange to say the least. I stopped by the bakery everyday, just like I always did, and made a point to have a conversation with Tweek Tweak. The conversations eventually got so long that I didn't even leave after I received my scone.

I got to know Tweek a lot better, and suddenly he became more than just the weird blind kid that sits in the corner of the bakery.

I learned that he's really good at making his way around his house, and even the bakery. One time when I went I handed him different treats and he'd feel them and guess what they were. Surprisingly, he was mostly right. But while Tweek can walk around the bakery and his home easily, he doesn't like to venture outside—the streets are too cluttered and confusing. He said his mother and father lead him to and from wherever he needs to go, but he generally stays indoors, which explains the pale skin.

He likes sweet things with lots of sugar (although I don't really think he needs the extra energy), being told stories (they have to have happy endings), baking (attempting to, he says), and a shit ton of other stuff that I shouldn't have found so interesting yet I _did. _

I found out that Tweek went blind around the age of seven, so he doesn't remember much of what having vision is actually like. The accident that stole his eye site from him involved a horse and carriage. Tweek said that he didn't actually know what happened that day, all he remembered was the large wagon speeding towards him…then he woke up and couldn't see.

The story triggered the strangest reaction out of me. It makes me want to take the blond away and store him in the castle, where he wouldn't be run over by any fucking horses and their stupid drivers. I want to lead him around and keep him to myself and—shit I don't know. I don't know what to make out of anything I've been thinking lately. I don't know why I look forward to talking to this bizarre kid everyday, or why my chest suddenly doesn't hurt anymore, or why I feel so _light _and _airy _when I see him perk up at my entrance.

It's like I'm not even myself.

The worst part is that I want to tell him everything about me. Even the dark parts that I swore I would never tell anyone. I can't, though, because I don't want to know how Tweek would react. For some reason, I care too much about his opinion. What if he became afraid, afraid because I have an important piece missing from me? A piece that could be considered more important than any other piece in the puzzle.

On the nights I returned from the bakery, I'd lie in bed and touch my chest. I'd feel nothing.

Why do I suddenly care so much? Why does the emptiness that reaches my palm instantly disappoint me? Why do I even feel disappointed?

What is happening to me?

* * *

Today is a special day. In fact, I completely disregard what I have planned and order to be taken right to the bakery. I want to take Tweek to the castle today. Well…specifically, I want to take him to the courtyard, where I bet he'd like the feeling of the soft grass underneath his feet. We have a pretty beautiful courtyard.

I've been planning on dragging Tweek out of the bakery for a while now and informed him of this. At first he seemed nervous, but finally agreed after I told him it was just the castle, and no one would bother us there.

Unless they want their heads on a silver platter.

The carriage stops in front of the bakery just like it always does, and people scream and cheer just like they always do. I walk into the bakery quickly, receiving the same greeting I always do from Mr. Tweak. I nod back in response, but my attention is already on the twitching blond in the corner. He's standing up and pulling nervously at his loose clothing. I make my way over to him.

"Hello Tweek." I say, looking down on the other. Sometimes I forget how short he is, he's at least a head smaller than I am. Despite this, he unknowingly stares straight at my chest, offering a quiet hello.

"Are you ready to go?" I ask, rocking back on my heels awkwardly. I don't know why, but my palms feel sweaty. Tweek nods quickly.

"Just-just don't ditch me in the middle of the castle, man!" He warns, his voice too high and shaky for me to take the threat seriously. "I'll get lost and starve to death and die!"

"I won't ditch you." I promise, rolling my eyes. And I'm serious, I really am.

Tweek wrinkles his nose in the way that I like before hesitantly mumbling, "…okay." He thrusts a hand out expectantly, groping the empty air.

I stare at it dumbly for a moment before reaching out and grabbing it gently. His hand is warm. I swallow and pull him closer, unknowing as to why I feel so nervous. Grabbing a hold of my upper arm, Tweek glues himself to my side. His presence stirs something up inside me, and I feel like there's a sea monster rolling around in the pit of my stomach. Yet, the feeling of him there seems oddly…right. Like, uh, like the warm feeling of the sun on a clear day. Yeah…

I turn back to Richard as I carefully begin to lead his son out of the bakery. "I'll have him back by sunset." I tell him.

"Of course, prince." He bows, a relaxed smile tugging at his mouth. Sometimes I wonder if the man is even aware of what goes on around him.

I open the door to the bakery with my free hand, and immediately the townspeople cry out, begging for a wave or any other action of acknowledgement. However, once they notice my new accessory everything goes quiet. Excited expressions morph into curious ones, and cheers become quiet whispers.

I try not to glare at them, because I don't need the public to think I'm rude…even though I am.

I can tell Tweek either feels the awkward stares or hears the quiet whispers, because he clutches onto me tighter, eliminating any space that might have been between us.

The guards open the carriage doors for us, and I quickly get in first, detaching Tweek from my arm in the process. I don't like the feeling of the cold air that hits my arm after I've let go of him. In fact, as I pull him inside the wagon, I sit closely by his side, even though I probably don't have to.

I can feel Tweek shivering through both layers of our clothing. I look down at him curiously, and decide to shyly touch his arm.

"Are you okay?" I ask, afraid I've made him really uncomfortable.

"Am I going to get in trouble for being in the castle?" He whispers, fidgeting in his seat.

I almost laugh in response.

"Tweek, I'm the prince, no one's going to care." I reassure him.

"I-I know! But the _king _and _queen _are there! What if _they_ care?"

"My parents aren't even around." I roll my eyes at the blonde's excess worries. "Besides, they'll just be glad I found someone to talk to." _Maybe their son without a heart isn't a hopeless case after all. _

"You don't have many friends?" Tweek asks, confusion evident in his quiet tone. I shake my head wordlessly before remembering he can't see the action.

"No." I mumble. "The whole idea of them seemed stupid, like a waste of time." I should have left it there, but for some reason I add, "Not you though. You're not a waste of time. You're different." I don't know why I say it, but I do know that it causes a strange reaction from the boy sitting beside me.

His cheeks color a light shade of pink and he shifts awkwardly, muttering a quiet thank you.

The blood flooding his cheeks looks nice. I quite like it.

We arrive at the castle shortly, and once again I exit first to help Tweek make his way out of the carriage. The blond loses his footing and trips forward, burying his face into my chest.

Panic suddenly seizes my nerves and I push him away, nearly shoving him to the ground. I don't want him to know. I don't want him to notice the void emptiness that would reach his senses. He can't know. He'd leave.

I've never felt this desperate before.

Tweek stumbles and cries out, but gains his footing eventually. Guards, nobles, and knights all turn their heads toward us curiously, but I wave them away, returning my attention to Tweek.

"What was that for?" He nearly shrieks. "Is-is something wrong?"

"No." I reply, reaching out and grabbing his hand again. Tweek flinches, but calms down once he feels the familiar edges and skin. "I tripped was all..." I lie, unable to look the other in eye as I do so, regardless of the fact that he can't see me anyways.

"Is anyone staring?" Tweek whispers, locking onto my arm again as I begin to walk toward the large wooden front doors. I glance around and note the countless eyes still on us.

I wonder if everyone is surprised to see me actually speaking to someone (a commoner no less), or if Tweek's strange appearance captivates them as much as it does me. Either way, I send a nasty glare their way as a warning. I don't need to play nice for them.

"No one's staring." I lie again, tugging Tweek to a halt as two guards open the large palace doors.

The halls are gleaming and spotless. Tall stonewalls sport countless paintings, shields, weapons, and banners all from passed generations of the royal family. I note that the castle looks particularly nice today, and think it's kind of a shame that Tweek isn't able to see any of it.

Call me an asshole, but I may have been looking forward to showing off my wealth.

I guess I can't really do that when the person I'm trying to impress is blind.

_Why am I even trying to impress him? _

Whatever, I think I've reached the point where I should stop asking questions about how I'm acting. I've never been too good at analyzing people…and I've never had to analyze myself…so whatever conclusion I come up with will probably be wrong.

Whatever happens happens I suppose.

"I'm inside the Tucker's Castle." Tweek says in wonderment, eyes wide and glued forward at the unknown. "And I can't even see it." He pouts. His small mouth scrunches up, and his bottom lip juts out to form the expression.

And _fuck, _suddenly I feel that sea monster in my stomach again rolling around and tearing up my insides.

"I could describe what it looks like, if you want." I offer, turning to the right, into a smaller hall that I know leads to the courtyard. It's been a while since I've been there. I never really had a reason to hang around it before. I don't see it as anything special—just a bunch of grass surrounded by towering stonewalls.

But I think Tweek will like it.

"N-No." Tweek declines. "I bet the walls are just lined with paintings of you." He snickers. "You probably m-made it law to put one ever three feet."

I can't help but smirk at the idea. And actually…glancing at the walls surrounding us…there are quite a few pictures of me.

"Do I come off as that vain?" I ask in amusement.

"Yes." Tweek answers without any hesitation, however I can feel him re-evaluating his answer after he said it. "Don't arrest me for saying that!" He panics. I just smile (something I find myself doing a lot lately) and open the small door that leads into the courtyard. Tweek seems to like to do that a lot, make a snide little comment and then immediately take it back. I find it endearing.

The difference in brightness makes me wince, and I think Tweek feels the change in the air because he clutches tighter onto my arm. Luckily, the place is empty save for a few trees and chirping birds. Good, I enjoy privacy as much as the next person. People with no hearts aren't exactly social butterflies.

Which is why it's strange that I feel such a need to be around Tweek.

I drag him into the center of the grassy area, pulling him down gently so that he is sitting next to me. Tweek's hands immediately leave my arm and burry themselves in the thick green grass. The smile that spreads on the blonde's face—I'm convinced—can cure even the deadliest of plagues.

"Grass." He says, almost dreamily, "It's been a while since I felt grass." Lying down slowly, Tweek spreads his arms out and tangles his fingers within the rich lawn. His eyes stare blankly at the cloud speckled sky, a look of pure content takes over his features. It amazes me how much pleasure this kid can get from such a simple thing.

I decide to lie down next to him. The sky holds little interest, so I find myself turning my head to stare at the boy next to me instead. I feel my stomach doing strange flips again and I shift uncomfortably, mumbling an awkward curse. Tweek picks up on it fast.

"Is s-something wrong?" He asks nervously, but stays in his same relaxed position.

I can lie, but I settle on being honest.

"I feel like there are worms in my stomach." I mutter, rubbing said area lazily, as if that will make it stop. Tweek shifts uncomfortably, and his expression suddenly changes from relaxed to worried. I feel kind of bad for being the cause of it, and wish I hadn't said anything.

"Are you sick?" He asks, tugging out small pieces of grass. I watch them flutter in the air for a moment before floating back towards the ground.

"I don't think so." I say. "It doesn't hurt or anything, it just feels…weird."

"Oh." Tweek replies. We stay silent for a while, and then we start talking again. We talk about stuff that doesn't matter, stuff that means nothing. I never thought of myself as very social, but with this kid I can talk for hours.

"Hey, what do you think I look like?" I question, finding myself suddenly curious. I can see Tweek biting the inside of his cheek as he thinks the answer over.

"I-I barely remember seeing you once when I was little." He says, still staring blankly at the sky. "Well—ngh—I mean, we didn't see _each other_, but my parents took me to go see the royal family. You-you guys were out for charity or something, I think I was, like, five."

I don't think I can remember exactly what event he's talking about. I've been dragged to charities every other week when I was younger. I always hated it. Actually…I still hate it.

"So you're picturing me as a five year-old?" I raise an eyebrow, pulling the blonde's strings.

"No!" Tweek shouts quickly, but there's a smile on his lips. "I-I don't know, I don't really imagine you at all." I frown, a little insulted. "B-but if I did, I'd see you as…I don't know, taller? Pointier?"

"Pointier?"

"Like sharper features!" Tweek's cheeks blossom red in embarrassment and I like how it looks on him.

I scoff, but he's right. I do have a pretty pointed face. My nose is a little longer and sharper than I'd like to admit, but what can you do?

"I could have a baby face and you'd never know." I tease, smirking as Tweek becomes flustered.

"Oh god! You're right!" Tweek continues to pull at the grass anxiously, and in order to save the entire goddamn courtyard of the same fate I grab his hand. The blond flinches but stays still.

His hand is so warm.

"Hey, how do you know what anything looks like anyway?" I ask. Tweek scrunches his nose.

"I feel things." He responds, like I should know this. Actually, I probably should.

Before I know what I'm doing, I turn onto my side so that I'm facing Tweek completely. My hand is still on top of his, and I grasp his small wrist, bringing his hand up to my face.

Tweek inhales sharply as his hand touches my cheek. Those worms are rolling around in my stomach again, but I decide best not to share it. Tweek turns his head to face me, and even though I know he can't see me—for the millionth time—I feel like he can.

"You're really cold." He says quietly—almost whispers. When I release his wrist his hand stays in place.

"Yeah?" I murmur, closing my eyes as his fingers travel upward, over my cheekbone, high and protruding—and around the bottom curve of my eye to the bridge of my nose. It feels soothing.

"Like…like ice." Tweek decides, two fingers sliding down the slope of my nose.

"It's because I'm so _cool." _I snicker. Tweek's hand immediately leaves my face and I open my eyes to see him frowning. I instantly regret my awful pun.

"Ngh—you're lame." Tweek chuckles back.

I wait about three seconds before he instantly apologizes.

"I was kidding! Don't throw me in a dungeon."

"I'm not going to throw you in a dungeon." I roll back onto my back and stare at the clouds. The sensation of his hand on my face still tingles.

* * *

As promised, Tweek and I return to the bakery by sunset. There aren't as many people out and about, which is nice since I won't have to deal with very many of them.

Tweek's been acting strange since we've gotten into the carriage to head back to the bakery. Not that I can say much, though, considering I've been acting strange ever since I've met the damn kid.

Still, he's more twitchy than usual. He constantly shifts in his seat, and is tugging relentlessly at the bottom of his shirt. He looks like he's got something on his mind, but is too afraid to say it.

When the wagon jerks to a halt, I get up in order to help Tweek out of the carriage. However, before I can make it out the door Tweek grabs my sleeve.

"Craig?" He asks, voice quiet and raspy, like the first time I heard it.

"Yes?" I sit back down next to him.

"Today was fun." Tweek answers. "Like, the best day I've had in a long time."

I smile and stay silent for a minute before saying, "Same here." I reply softly. And I mean it, I really do.

Tweek grows incredibly nervous again and I find myself curiously watching him. "What's wrong?" I question.

"I sh-shouldn't tell you." The blond squeaks, hand tangling itself into his wild hair. I frown, raising an eyebrow.

"Why not?" I ask. "What, did you steal something?"

"No!" Tweek immediately denies, insulted that I'd even come up with something like that.

"Kill someone?" I continue, although at this point I'm not serious.

"_What?_" Tweek shrieks. "How could _I _kill someone?"

"I don't know." I shrug. "Then what can't you tell me?" I know we haven't exactly known each other for too long. But it feels like every time we've talked, there have been almost no barriers between us. Well, I mean, not with him…I still refuse to tell the blond my own little secret.

"It's wrong." Tweek whispers. "It-it feels right, but I know it's wrong."

Well now I'm really curious. I grab onto Tweek's hand and he flinches, eventually relaxing and gripping my hand back.

"Tell me." I plead. Swallowing a lump in his throat, Tweek exhales shakily.

"I like you." He finally says. "More than I should…"

Oh.

_Oh. _

I should probably react in any other way than the one I actually do. But my stomach feels like it's about to jump out of my throat and hit the blind kid right in the face.

What do I even do with this information?

It's not fair. It's not fair to Tweek. He deserves to like someone who can actually do the same back. Me? I can't. At least, I don't think I can. I don't have the vital piece needed. Tweek deserves someone with the largest heart in the kingdom. Not me. Not someone who has nothing but an empty cavity. Not someone who had their heart stolen. Not someone who is cursed.

So, instead of actually responding, I just silently lead Tweek out of the carriage and to the bakery. I ignore the sad twist of his features, and how glossy his eyes have become—about to spill with tears. I stay composed, but I feel like I'm going to vomit my insides.

Even as I drop Tweek off inside and nod to Richard—who seems completely unaware of his son's disposition—I say nothing and simply leave.

I'm silent the entire ride back to the castle, and a sensation I haven't felt in weeks suddenly makes its ugly return.

My chest hurts again.

* * *

For the next few days I don't go to the bakery. Instead, in my free time, I read dull books in the castle's library. The aching in my chest has escalated, and I'm waiting patiently for everything to go back to normal.

Including me.

I've been moping around the palace, and my strange behavior has triggered a lot of questions from the people that noticed. But I simply ignore them or order them to leave me alone.

I know I'm not supposed to feel anything, but I think that I am. There's no other reason I'd be acting this way. Yet, when I put my hand to my chest, I still feel nothing in return. And, God damn it, that empty response has really been bugging me lately.

I also haven't been able to get the blond out of my head. He's always there. Every time I shut my eyes his face appears as though it is glued to the back of my eyelids. I can't sleep, and wake up in a cold sweat almost every night. My ribs feel like they're crumbling inside of me, being sucked into the black hole in my chest.

I can't go on this way, and decide that I need to pay Tweek a visit.

* * *

I arrive at the bakery only to find out that Tweek isn't there. I immediately ask Richard where he is.

"He's at home." The baker responds. "The poor fellow seems to be feeling ill."

"Where do you live?" I automatically demand, nearly grabbing the man from across the counter. Mr. Tweak's eyes widen in confusion.

"Uh, why would you like to know, prince?"

"Just tell me." I bite impatiently.

And, of course, he does. I find myself ordering the cab driver to take me to Tweek's, shouting the directions and warning him that he better get it right the first time. We're off before I sit down in my seat.

It's only a few minutes until the carriage jolts to a stop and I hear the knights pushing people aside.

Tweek's house is a small little stone box, much like the other's around it, with a wooden roof and matching wooden shutters. I probably should knock like any other civilized person, but instead I simply barge right in, slamming the door behind me.

I'm almost blown away by how small the blonde's home is. The room I walk into has a small wooden table with bread and fruit nestled in the middle of it, a furnace in the back corner, and a thin stretch of stone counter. There's a doorway to my right that I assume must be where the beds are. It's also where I hear a familiar shriek and a thump.

Soon Tweek is in the doorway, cautiously clinging onto the dirty stonewall. He looks paler than usual, with deep circles underneath his large blank eyes. Looks like he's been sleeping as well as I have.

"Mom?" Tweek squeaks, taking a step out of the bedroom. His baggy clothes are wrinkled and disheveled, like he's been lying down.

It's strange how he's facing me completely, yet has no idea who I am.

"No." I answer, my stomach twisting up oddly again. "It's Craig."

Immediately Tweek's expression shifts from slightly afraid to angry.

"Oh." He says tersely. "W-What are you doing here?"

"You weren't at the bakery—"

"Why would I be there? The last few times I went you didn't show up." I'm sure if the blond weren't so terrified of the outdoors he would have stormed off. But instead he walks the short distance to the small table in the middle of the room and plops down. It's kind of weird seeing him so easily navigate his way around without needing help.

I follow after him and take a seat myself. Tweek frowns.

"What are you—ngh—doing here?" He repeats, tapping his slim fingers anxiously against the scratched wood.

"I wanted to apologize," I sigh, "for how I acted earlier."

"You mean _days _ago?"

"I mean days ago." I amend, watching Tweek carefully. His lower lip is trembling, and I can tell he's struggling to keep himself composed in front of me. I don't like this look on him. I like when he's happy and blushing.

"You could have at least rejected me by saying something." Tweek murmurs, his fingers lying still.

"Tweek—"

"I thought—I thought that I lost the only friend I've ever made." His eyes are growing misty again. "I know I shouldn't like you this way. You're a prince! And-and I _knew _I shouldn't have said anything I just—" He stops speaking abruptly as I lean forward and grab both of his hands. I've missed their warmth.

I stand up slowly, keeping hold of his hands and turning him slowly in his seat to face me. I pull him up, so that he's standing right in front of me. He's blushing, but he still looks like he's going to cry.

I don't ever want to see Tweek cry.

So I decide to tell him what I've never told anybody.

"It's not your fault." I say sternly. I take a deep breath…and I tell him everything. I tell him about the witch that cursed me. I tell him how my heart is missing. I tell him how his strangeness captivated me. I tell him how, even though I shouldn't feel anything, for some reason I do with him. I tell him how my chest doesn't feel empty when I'm with him. And I tell him how I walked away because I thought that he deserved someone with a heart…someone who could actually love him.

"You…you have no heart?" He says in disbelief, face torn in confusion. I nod, but then remember he can't see me.

"I have no heart." I confirm.

Tweek's hand slides out of my own, and for a minute I think he's going to run away from me.

"But how?" His hand travels up my arm and slides over to my chest. Over where my heart should be. I stand still and watch as his eyes widen when nothing reaches his palm. "You m-must have a heart somewhere."

I shake my head. "I don't."

"But everything you just said," Tweek mumbles, " a heartless person wouldn't say those things."

"Do you feel a heartbeat?" I counter, placing my hand over his and pushing it harder against me. "Tweek, you need someone who can _feel." _

"But you can!" Tweek protests in frustration. "You wouldn't be here if you couldn't!"

"If I have all these feelings you claim then why can't you feel a fucking heartbeat?" I spit, regretting my harsh tone as Tweek flinches.

"C-Craig," Tweek balls his hand into a fist, clutching the fabric of my clothes, "I can't just _stop_ liking you this way."

"Why not?"

"I don't know!" Tweek hisses impatiently.

I can see I'm hurting him just by being here. His eyes are glossy again, about to spill with tears.

"I should go." I mumble, pulling away weakly, but Tweek continues to grip my shirt. "It's, uh, it's better this way. I'm sorry for pulling you into this…" Tweek flushes himself against me almost desperately.

"Can I just," he cries, "can I just…try something, before you leave?"

I hesitate before I answer him. "Yes."

Tweek's other hand grips at my jaw, tugging me forward and more to his level. The hand that was on my chest pats blindly at my face, fingers running over my lips slowly. I wrinkle my brow in confusion until the small blond stands up on his tiptoes to close the gap between my lips and his.

He kisses me.

The first thing I want to do is pull away, but I quickly stop myself. His lips feel soft against my own. Like smooth warm pillows.

Then, the weirdest thing happens.

Something _flutters _in my chest. Something swells, ballooning against my ribs and causing me to push Tweek away suddenly. I fall back on my ass, shock rendering my limbs still. Something is thumping. It's like someone's knocking on the inside of me.

"What…" I gasp, leaning forward. I feel sick. Whatever is happening…. continues hard and strong.

Tweek's crawling toward me, groping at the floor and finding purchase in my knee.

"Oh God," he begins apologizing profusely, hand clutching my shirt. I feel like my blood is racing through my body.

The blond suddenly goes silent; his hand is on my chest again. I look down at him, concerned because I've never seen him so still.

Tweek immediately grabs one of my hands, crushing it to my body and nearly shouting, "D-d-d-do you feel that?"

My eyes widen.

_Thump thump, _

_ Thump thump. _

My jaw drops, and I'm glad Tweek can't see the stupid shocked expression on my face. I barely hear myself as I quietly reply, "A heartbeat."

* * *

So, I _could _give you all the details of what happened after that. But, really, you don't need to know. I still enjoy privacy after all…even if I don't mind speaking with the townspeople as much as I used to.

Let's just say my parents still weren't going to get an heir to the throne from me. But that's okay; Ruby would make a good queen in time. They were just thrilled their son had a heart again.

Tweek and I began seeing each other, eventually I took Tweek away to the castle and—you guessed it by now—we lived happily ever after.

* * *

**Wow that ending was pretty uh GOOEY to say the least. Anyways, happy birthday Lindsay you're awesome I hoped you liked this story!**


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